THE HERMIT AND THE FIG-TREE.
There was an old man of Toledo who had one son, whom he brought upin the fear of God. Now it happened that this old man had to go toa distant town of Estramadura, to receive some money of a creditor,and the creditor dying, his heirs disputed the debt, and drove theold man to a lawsuit which kept him absent many years. When at lastthe suit was just decided in his favour, the old man fell ill anddied. Meantime the son, growing uneasy at his father's prolongedabsence, arranged his affairs as well as he could, and prepared to takethe journey to see after him. Calling in his three clerks, Jacinto,Gonzalo, and Diego, who were all men whom his father trusted, andwhom he therefore respected, he divided his property in three parts,and to each he gave charge of one part, leaving it to each to do thebest he could for him, saying, "The wisdom of your grey hairs willdo better for me than any instructions my inexperience could give you."
"If the Lord bless it, it shall increase; and if He curse it, it shallnot prosper," answered Jacinto, the eldest; "behold I am nothing inthe matter;" and he shook his venerable head, and raised his eyesto heaven.
"Whatever I have done for your father I will continue to do for you,"said Gonzalo, the second in order, and hurried back to his papers asif it was wrong to waste a moment in talking.
"I will endeavour that you shall have nothing to complain of,"quietly replied Diego, the third.
The young man was pleased with what they said, and without furtherloss of time set out on his journey.
The weather was fair, and his father's friends by the way receivedhim hospitably; but crossing the Sierra [48], a violent storm cameon, and he would soon have been drenched with rain. Right glad hewas to see, perched on the mountain-ledge, a hermit's cell, where hereadily found shelter. In the morning, when the sky was serene again,he rose to take his leave; and as he stood on the threshold thankingthe hermit for his care of him, he could not forbear pausing toadmire the beauties around him. Far away stretched the plains below,studded with smiling cities and watered by the mazy windings of therivers, and shaded by dark groves of ancient cork-trees; behind himwere rocky heights reaching to the sky, presenting every degree ofrich vegetation and solemn barrenness. But what attracted his sightmost of all was a luxuriant plantation of fig-trees, which made acomplete bower of the hermit's cell.
"How successful you are with your fig-trees!" said the traveller; "Inever saw so fine a show. You have three, one as fine as the other--itis impossible to say which of them is most flourishing; and to judge bythe fruit you gave me, which doubtless is their produce, they are thefinest trees in Spain, and that is saying a great deal. I must add too,after your liberality with them, that you put to shame the proverb,--
"En tiempo de higos No hay amigos [49]."
"For what you say of the proverb, son," replied the hermit, "I haveno merit, for it is the very essence of my rule of life to callnothing my own, according to our Lord's counsel. These figs arethe gift of God, to me, or to you, or to whomsoever is here to needthem. But for the rest, you judge according to the measure of theinconsiderateness of your years. Nevertheless, you seem to me a goodyouth, and I will therefore show you something which may be of use toyou in your dealings with the world. Know then that but one of thesefig-trees is really what it seems; the other two are worthless. Thatis, worthless," he added, "as bearers of fruit, for there is nothingthat God makes but has its worth, and even these trees which bear nofruit are useful to give shade, and for other purposes besides."
"You surprise me," said the young man; "I never saw trees of moreequal promise!"
"Nevertheless, it is as I say; and if the season of figs werenot just over, according to our Lord's saying, by their fruit youshould know them, or, as you say in the world, "al freir, lo vereis[50]." Meantime, learn, my son, not to judge of men and things bytheir appearance, but wait and see what their fruit is like."
The sun was now beginning to make way above the horizon, and, fearingto be overtaken by the heat, the young man was obliged to set out onhis journey without further parley than promising to visit the hermiton his return.
Great was his grief, when he arrived at the end of his journey, tofind his good father had been so suddenly called away, and instead ofbeing clasped to his bosom, to find the last earthly communicationhe could ever receive from him was a scrap of paper, on which, atintervals of his death agony, he had convulsively written down a fewdirections to guide him in entering into possession of his worldlygoods, mingled with counsels to him to continue to direct all hisdealings according to the fear of God.
This sudden death had thrown matters into some confusion, and it tooka considerable time to set all straight again; it was some ten oreleven months before the young merchant had to re-cross the Sierrain a homeward direction.
It was a brilliant summer evening when he came upon the hermit'scell again. The old man was sitting making his meditation beforethe door. Occupied with grief and care, as he had been during hisabsence, the bereaved son had forgotten all about the fig-trees;but, on looking around, he saw that something was changed, and soonhad a clear demonstration of what the hermit had told him. One nobletree was laden with the ripe green and purple fruit; the soft, downyskins seeming ready to burst with the rich and luscious burden within,while the broad leaves spread out their hands and shaded them fromthe too great heat, and fanned them gently when the day was sultry.
The second tree was covered with luxuriant leaves as before, but nota single ripe fig was on it--there were a few young green beginnings,but too small and sickly to have a chance of ripening that season.
The third tree was in lamentable plight; its attenuated climbersclung by habit to the rock, but the sap and life and energy were gone,and it seemed only fit to be cut down.
"Well, father, I see you were right as to the figs," said the youngman, candidly. "There is only one of them that is a good tree afterall--but it is wonderful how well favoured they looked last year!"
"Learn, my son, the counsel of the aged and the words of the wise,"replied the hermit; "for as it is with trees, even so it is withmen. There are many who seem to you alike honest and worthy tobe esteemed, while their inner life is as different as was thefruit-bearing principle of these trees."
"But, father, will not the good be known by their good deeds andmaxims, and the bad by their evil lives and counsels?"
"Even so, my son, but the difficulty is to discern which are good andwhich evil. This is not so easy as you seem to think; for instance,you see two men both apparently pious and charitable, while the one whoappears most so, very possibly only gives his money to the poor thathe may stand well with the world, that the poor may look up to him,and say, 'There goes one who is like a king among us;' the other,whose liberality you noticed less, drops his hardly-spared coinnoiselessly into the capillo [51], and sallies forth perhaps in deadof night to carry his alms to those who would blush to receive suchassistance by day. One man appears to you calm and placid becausehe is of a phlegmatic nature, and has no effort to make in order toappear equable and ever patient; while another, whom you judge to behasty and passionate, may be all the while struggling to conquer ahot and violent temperament which requires the courage of a hero tokeep it within bounds."
"I see your moral, father," replied the young man; "and I have nodoubt I often judge of men as I judged your fig-trees."
"That one," continued the hermit, pointing to the one whose fruitwas even then affording a delicious meal to the birds, for the hermitcalled nothing his own, and the birds of heaven were welcome to sharehis stock, "that one was always a good and fruitful tree, and itspraise is among its people, for you will find many a village abouthere which boasts a graft from the hermit's fig. The second one, whichpresented so fair a show, has something amiss which it hitherto haspassed my skill to find out--though I have one remedy more to try,which may recover it. And the third had a worm at the root whichdestroyed its vital power."
The young man passed on his way next day, and, as he journeyed, thefigs of
which the good hermit had given him ample provision put himin mind of his parable, and set him musing on its application. Thesemusings weaving themselves in with his anticipations of the conditionof his affairs at home, he began to consider whether the threeclerks, to whom he had entrusted his property, were in any way likethe fig-trees, and whether Providence had not sent him this lessonto be his guide in his future conduct.
Possessed with this idea, he resolved to put them to the test. Thesun and air of the mountains had dyed his skin; sorrow had marked hisface with lines of care and tinged his hair with grey. By means of afalse beard and a travelling merchant's dress he reckoned he couldbe safe from recognition, and as a stranger learn their respectiveworth from their own lips.
Equipped in his disguise he presented himself at his own house,and found all three in their place, with every evidence of diligentapplication. So he opened the terms of his pretended business tothem, and found them all ready to negotiate with him, each in hisdegree--each conducted his matter with every token of due shrewdnessand integrity.
It had been part of his plan to tell them the news of their master'sdeath, and try them by watching the effect of this intelligence uponthem, but when he saw all so well-ordered he judged there was noneed for further trial, and so contented himself with resuming hisown attire and returning in his own person to the house.
The clerks greeted him with a joyful welcome, and received the news ofhis father's death with becoming expressions of sorrow, and the youngman congratulated himself on having such trusty stewards of his goods.
After he had been back a day or two, he requested them to preparefor him the account of what they had done since he left, so that hemight know how his affairs stood, and once more assume the directionof them. The proposal received a ready assent, and a day was fixedfor going into the matter. But when the appointed day came, whatwas his astonishment to find only Diego in his place? His accountswere ready and all in good order; he had administered faithfully theportion of property entrusted to him, and handed it back increasedby the efforts of his prudence and skill.
From Gonzalo he found a letter informing him that he had had themisfortune to be unlucky in his speculations with his property, and hadlost the whole of it, consequently he had no account to render. Losingpatience at this attempt at deceit, the young man had him broughtbefore him, and asked him how he dared tell him so, when he knew thatonly so many days before he had been negotiating with a merchant heknew, and he named the name he had assumed in his disguise. Gonzalowas not at all disconcerted: "Oh, that business was done with my ownmoney; though I was unlucky with yours, fate would have it that Ishould be very successful with my own, and out of my own earnings Ihave created a capital which I have multiplied an hundredfold."
When the young man heard this unblushing statement, he was filledwith indignation, and insisted on taking him before the judge. Butit was all to no purpose, Gonzalo had managed his fraud so cleverlythat it could not be proved against him; he had to be let go scotfree.
As for Jacinto, he never showed himself at all, nor left anyexplanation. He had remained up to the hour, trading with the benefitof his master's name and capital, but the moment there had been talkof giving up accounts he had gathered up all that was in his charge,and fled with it out of the country.
More grieved by the faithlessness of those he had trusted than bythe loss of his gold, the young man shut himself into his chamber,to muse upon what had befallen him, and upon the uncertainty both offriendship and riches. When he reflected on the temptations which moneyhad offered to Gonzalo and Jacinto, he was appalled at the thought ofthose which might be in store for him, if he continued in the pursuitof business. He thought of the peaceful hermit, whose warning parablehad just received such a striking illustration. He thought of hisplacid content with the weather--such as God sends it--to warm him,and the fruits of the earth--such as God gives them--to nourishhim. He thought of him far removed from contentions and greed ofgain, and sharing his frugal meal with the stranger, the wayfarer,and the birds of heaven.
When he came down from his chamber, he called Diego to him, andcommended him for his faithfulness and diligence. "And," said he,"I now give you full possession of all that you have so justlyadministered. For me, I have chosen a life free from care, where Ishall have no use for money."
But when Diego heard it, he said, "Nay, but I will go with thee. Tosave my master's goods for his son was my work on earth; now that isfulfilled, no desire have I to continue amid its weariness and perils."
So they left the money to found an hospital where poor orphan childrenmight be taken in and taught the way that is right. And they wentinto the Sierra, and built them huts and planted them fig-trees,and passed their time in holy meditation and in praising God.